Bull. You forgot to ask. Were getting married on the Fourth of July. Independence Day. You see the irony.
Yes, Faith said faintly.
And theres also the fireworks connection. Ought to make good copy. His voice picked up speed. Less than six months between now and then. Ive got a lot to do and I have to know where Im doing it. So get going.
He hung up. Faith sat still for a moment, feeling stunned. Good copy? Electricity? Lighting? Were these things a man should be thinking about when he was marrying a lovely, sweet-as-she-was-pretty starlet like Tippy Temple? The one thing Faith knew was that Cabot Drennan was in for a hot honeymoon. But that would make good copy, too.
Focus, Faith. Focus, Faith, Focus
Okay, okay, she muttered to the screen saver, and with considerable effort, turned her mind toward scuba-diving gear for the Muldens.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Cabot was back at the house Tippy had rented in the chic Bel Air district, sitting beside her at the pool. At high noon on a perfect Southern California January day, she was turning Nordic-golden before his very eyes while he sweated in his three-piece suit.
Reno! Awesome! I feel better already, Tippy said, popping her chewing gum at him. Get us one of those honeymoon suites with a round bed, okay? And a Jacuzzi. Ill look great in a Jacuzzi.
Tippy kept her weight down to nothing by smoking and kept her cigarette count down by chewing bubblegum in between cigarettes. Just now one of her all-time biggest and best bubbles practically obscured her slim, lovely face. Cabot steeled himself for the eventual
Pop! The arrangements are underway, he said. Ill keep you posted.
Gr-r-eat, Tippy said. Her lower lip began to tremble. An I really appreciate you bein willin to marry me, after thatthat Tears welled up.
Dont cry, Tippy, Cabot said, thinking, Dont start up with the swearing! Its my pleasure. I mean, whats a publicist for?
One huge droplet slid down her flawless skin as she gazed at him earnestly. This is going to work for me, isnt it, Cabot? The publicity? Just a little publicity is all I need, right?
Jack and I are sure of it, he told her, feeling more kindly toward her. Her agent, Jack Langley, had hired him to promote her to the top ranks and Cabot was determined to do it. She deserved a break, this kid from Brooklyn with no connections. So did he, for that matter, a kid from Hollywood with no connections beyond the ones hed worked his butt off for. And he wasnt going to let his conscience get in a twist about this thing hed agreed to do. Whatever Tippys private faults, she was, damn it, a good actress.
He felt a smile curving his lips. Good enough to fool that travel agent, Faith Sumner. Hed spotted her from the front door of the agency and had known at once she was the right agent for the job. With her head obviously full of dreams, shed never figure out that this marriage was made in a publicists office, not heaven.
She was a pretty little thing. He kept thinking of her as being little. She was about five-five, hed guess, but with all that curly blond hair floating around her facehair a lot like Tippys, actuallyand the fluttery way she had about her, she seemed smaller than her size and could easily pass for eighteen.
Her gray eyes were like dark pearls.
Back on track, Drennan. Tippy, he said gravely, you do understand we have to keep this quiet.
Oh, yeah, sure.
He hoped she said I do and not Shoo-uh when they made their vows. We cant let anybody figure out this is just a publicity stunt.
I unnerstan poifectly, Cabot. Tippy switched from gum to tobacco. Were in love and were gonna get married.
Right. Here he was, getting married to a woman he felt sort of protective toward and that was it. And he was doing it entirely to get her name, and his, in the papers. And he figured if the marriage didnt do the trick, the not-so-discreet divorce would.
He fanned the smoke away from his face. I went to a low-key travel agency in Westwood, he explained. Theyll be less likely to figure it out than one of the agencies around here, and even if they figure it out, less likely to talk.
She turned huge blue eyes on him. No longer wet, now they were calculating. Low-key? Are you sure they can do it up classy-like?
Ill see to it that they do.
Maybe we ought to do a dry run.
A what?
You know. Rehearse the honeymoon. Go see what this low-key agency set up for us. Take the crew along. Finalize a script for the video. Work on the lighting. Try out the bed. Find me a psychiatrist. See if theres a good pastrami sandwich anywhere. Check out the Chinese restaurants. She stubbed out her cigarette and reached for a fresh pack of bubblegum.
He was startled, as always when Tippys hard-headed practicality showed itself. Thats a good idea, he said. Itll be expensive, he warned her, knowing she was rapidly spending the money shed made from the film Faith had rhapsodized about.
Itll pay off. She blew a huge bubble.
It had better. On the way to the car, Cabot fiddled with his cell phone, got out Faiths card, started to punch in her office number, then decided not to call her yet. It could wait until morning.
A dry run. Why hadnt he thought of that?
RENOS PREMIER HONEYMOON HOTEL. Six spectacular honeymoon suites, featuring water beds, his-and-hers baths with Jacuzzis, his-and-hers dressing rooms
Why not his-and-hers beds? Snuggled into her own bed, which was much cozier than a water-filled bed sounded, Faith gazed at the laptop monitor that showed a lurid suite reminiscent of one youd see in the movies of the fifties. The white-carpeted room was huge. At least, it had been photographed from an angle to make it look huge.
The heart-shaped bed, swathed in pink satin, was the central feature, naturally.
She cuddled a little more deeply into her mound of pillows as the ache of frustrated desire began its climb through her center. She could envision Cabot Drennan, dressed in a paisley silk dressing gown and nothing else, turning down that bed and tossing her, dressed in Passion perfume and nothing else, onto it. Resolutely she substituted a fuzzy image of Tippy Temple for the clear image of herself. If she couldnt allow herself even the briefest, most fleeting thought of sharing that bed with Cabot, at least she was giving him up to a woman who deserved him.
Still, it was disappointing to meet the man of her dreams on the eve, so to speak, of his marriage to another woman.
magnificent Olympic pool, saunas, dramatic casino, big-name entertainment, twenty-four-hour room service.
She sighed deeply. Honeymooners would like thatroom service at any time of the day or night.
European-trained hairstylists and manicurists on the premises, full range of business services
This perked her up a little. Cabot would like that, too. Hed need a break from Tippy now and then, surely. While she had her hair and nails done, he could catch up with life at his office. Maybe even call his travel agent to tell her
that hed made a terrible mistake! That he wished he could take it back! Annul the marriage! Come back to Los Angeles to the woman he really
Yes, this hotel, the Inn of Dreams located right in the heart of downtown Reno, seemed to be exactly what he was looking for.
that hed made a terrible mistake! That he wished he could take it back! Annul the marriage! Come back to Los Angeles to the woman he really
Yes, this hotel, the Inn of Dreams located right in the heart of downtown Reno, seemed to be exactly what he was looking for.
An e-mail alert popped up in the corner of the screen. Faith opened it. Hold off on the July reservations until we talk. Im coming in to your office when it opens. C. Drennan.
Her heart beat a rat-a-tat. Could it be? Were her dreams about to come true?
She leaped out of bed, whirled back to save the data shed gathered on a diskette to take with her to the office and then darted toward the shower. She had exactly thirty-nine minutes to make herself presentable and beat Cabot to the agency. It was going to be a stretch.
CABOT PACED UP AND DOWN in front of Wycoffs Worldwide wondering why no one was there at two-and-a-half minutes before nine. How could you start working at nine if you didnt get there well beforehand, have your coffee, go through your In box, be ahead of the game before the day actually began? Hed e-mailed his agent that hed be there at opening time. Hed expected her to be waiting at the door.
Hed wanted her to be waiting at the door.
What was he doing here anyway? Now that hed seen who he was working with, now that hed decided to trust her, why hadnt he just relied on the telephone. He did everything else on the telephone. Well, almost everything else. At this stage in his life, he didnt do much that couldnt be done on the telephone. But it was too late now. Hed said hed be here and he was here, and where the hell was she?
Exactly at nine, it all happened in a perfectly synchronized fashion. A portly man came to the door and unlocked it at the same time two women and two other men materialized on the sidewalk. Neither of the women was Faith. The group outside forged to the inside, carrying Cabot along with them as they said good-morning to each other and the portly man, then the Wycoff group paused expectantly, waiting.
A minute later Cabot found out what they were waiting for. He heard the squeal of worn tires, the roar of a car engine that needed a new muffler, the grinding of brakes that needed new linings. And in another moment Faith flew through the door, her hair surrounding her face like a golden cloud, her eyes as wild as pearl-gray eyes could get and her silky gray pantsuit in need of a pressing.
A ray of sun shot through the window and straight through her hair, and for a second, Cabot was blinded. He stared at the apparition, trying to still the pounding of his heart.
He strongly felt that he ought to fall to his knees and repent for something or other, and hed gotten so hard so fast that he actually had something specific to repent.
But the cloud of fire and mist that was Faith Sumner rushed toward him, smoothing her suit with one hand and her hair with another, and gradually reality seeped back.
Oh, Cabot, sorry you had to wait. Mr. Wycoff she turned to the portly man sorry to be late. I
Dont waste time apologizing, Cabot interrupted her. He gestured toward her desk. My plans have changed and I have exactly seventeen minutes to explain the situation.
He observed with satisfaction that the other travel agents immediately began slinking toward their work stations. Wycoff opened his mouth, then closed it and went through a doorway into what was undoubtedly his office, a private one where he would be protected from the hustle and bustle of the actual work.
Faith simply sat down at her desk and gazed at him with a peculiar light in her eyes. So he sat down, too.
When did you get here? she asked testily.
Eight fifty-seven.
Were they already here? She gestured around the room at the other agents.
No, they all sort of appeared at once just as that guy unlocked the door.
How do they do it? Her expression pleaded with him to understand. How do they get here exactly at nine, not a minute early, not a minute late? I swear some alien power beams them to the front door.
You were only one minute late. He didnt know where his forgiving attitude had come from. He supposed it was coming straight from his groin, which still hadnt stopped acting hopeful.
When Im one minute late theyre all standing in the center of the waiting area staring at me when I come in. Her shoulders drooped.
She was wearing mascara, but only on one set of blond lashes, and her lipstick, something pale pink and shiny, was crooked. He was fascinated, but he couldnt let on.
I dont care, he said gruffly. Heres my problem.
Oh, yes, she said, your problem. She whirled and reached down to her computer. After shed pushed several wrong buttons, she finally got the right one and the monitor began to show signs of life. Next she reached into her handbag, fished around, began hauling things outa wrench, a sandwich, a paper-clipped bundle of coupons, a tube of stain remover, a romance noveland eventually pulled out a diskette in an ordinary white envelope. Got it, she said, waving it at him before she tried to jam it into the CD slot, then into the Zip drive slot and at last, with only the one alternative remaining, slid it smoothly into the A drive.
He waited, tapping one finger on the arm of his chair, trying not to notice the tilt of her perfect little nose, her pale, creamy skin, her small, slender hands as they wreaked their havoc.
She turned back to him, looking triumphant. Now, she said. You mentioned a change of plans.
Yes. Dont make the July reservations yet.
No? Are you sure? Her voice softened. So did her face.
Yes. Make them for the second weekend in February.
Inexplicably, her face fell. Of course. Certainly. If I can get reservations. Youre, ah, moving the wedding back? Oh, she sighed as a calendar mysteriously appeared on the monitor, thats the weekend before Valentines Day! Instead of skyrockets, youre going for hearts and fl
No, he interrupted her. Im doing a dry run.
A dry run. Of your honeymoon.
Anything wrong with that?
Faith could think of about a million things wrong with that. She considered listing them. Then she considered the new muffler she needed and the funny way her car sounded when she put on the brakes. Her final consideration was the most important. This was her thirteenth job since shed finished undergraduate school with a degree in languages and no skills beyond French, Spanish and Italian. She had to make this one last.
Of course not, she said smoothly.
Okay. So book me a honeymoon suite for the nights of the eighth through the tenth.
She hesitated. It may not be easy so close to Valentines Day.
Dont anticipate trouble. That impatient growl again.
Something about his voice sent her whirling to the screen. The hotel Ive chosen she began.
Just make the reservation.
Silently, feeling oddly sulky, Faith punched at the keyboard, moved the mouse around on a mousepad that had the word Focus! printed on it in capital letters. Im sorry, she said, but theyre fully booked forOops! Startled, she drew back. Somebody just broke up. A slot, in fact a deluxe theme suite, had opened up before her very eyes. Our most popular theme room, they described it on the Web site. She cast a sideways glance at Cabot, feeling hed somehow done it himself, broken up a couple who had a reservation in his hotel for his room.